Routines
by BecauseIHurtSo
Summary: As Harry Potter tries to leave his lover after a morning assignation, Draco attempts to hold him close.


Title: Routines

Pairing:Draco/Harry

Rating:T-M (for a brief mention of sex)

A/N: Just a little drabble that popped into my head while I was working on the penultimate chapter of Happy Birthday.

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><p>"Don't go yet." His big grey eyes beseeched, wet-looking and miserable as he gazed up at me from his cocoon of custom made silk sheets. "<em>Please<em>."

That last plea did it. He always said that he was far above begging anyone for anything, but I suppose that another allowance had to be made for me to be able to live in his world. I sighed, shrugging back out of my button up shirt to curl up next to my lover, gently nudging him over so that I could huddle beneath the heavy top sheet with him.

"What is it, Draco?" I deliberately made my voice no nonsense. I couldn't possibly stay very much longer and we both knew it.

The air between us stayed silent, though a smooth hand traveled up my side to stroke at the lightly scarred skin stretching over my ribs. He turned his head to nuzzle at my neck and his quiet, heavy breaths puffed at the sensitive skin there.

"I just- just hold me." His normally dark, smooth voice broke off in the middle, belying the emotions that must have been going on behind his fair eyelids.

As always, I ignored the sound of weakness in my lover. I complied, though, wrapping my arms around his narrow shoulders, tugging him closer, as he tightened his hold on my waist. I thought I felt a bit of moisture on my skin where his slightly pointy nose met the juncture between neck and shoulder.

I waited a couple of minutes, hoping that this episode of tenderness would pass relatively quickly. It didn't.

Draco was prone to forgetting where he was sometimes, and that meant unnecessary risks to both of us. Risks that I certainly could not afford to take.

"I need to be going." I reminded him, not quite smoothly.

I winced at the sound of my voice; it sounded almost clinical, sterile even.

"I know that." Draco replied haughtily, trying valiantly to recapture the arrogant attitude that he was famous for.

It didn't work so much as sound like a child trying to imitate his father, which wasn't far from what Draco was doing, in reality.

"Really, I do."

Sometimes repeating something to him made the idea sink in more effectively. Unfortunately, that was not the case at that particular moment in time. He refused to release his hold on my torso, actually daring to dig his blunt fingertips into my sides a bit.

"Let me go before she comes back and finds me in her bed."

That sparked some movement in my bed mate, though the consequence was a mildly disgusted grunt at the mention of his wife. The cloying hold was removed and I sat up, grateful. In a moment of sympathy, I glanced down at the new Lord Malfoy. He no longer looked up at me, instead focused intensely on a dull painting of moving fruit on the wall directly behind me and to the left of my head. His platinum hair lay fanned out on a pillow and spilling onto the bed sheets, almost blending in with the off-white color. His face was no less angular or beautiful than it had been when we were in school, but in the time we had spent away from Hogwarts, he had grown into it. A true man's face instead of a boy trying too hard to be an adult. His too-long eyelashes cast shadows over the flint grey orbs that I knew he had, making them impossible to see in the dim light of the bedroom. His body language was too stiff, almost formal with how rigid he made his torso and legs as he waited patiently for me to quietly escape.

I didn't disappoint, quickly donning my discarded shirt and trousers, tucking my boxers into my pocket. I didn't bother to try to calm the disarray that my hair was sure to be after such a midmorning romp. I simply picked up my shoes, neatly placed side by side near the doorway by a helpful house elf, and exited the room with nary a backwards glance at the lone occupant in the master suite. Swiftly fleeing the Malfoy Manor, I barely made it to the edge of the wards before the Polyjuice began wearing off.

Giving up on making a clean break, I knelt on the ground, tensing against the bubbling pain of transformation. By that time, I'd at least grown accustomed to the muscle spasms and lingering aches as a side effect to the potion, but no matter how many times one went through an ordeal, it would always cause at least mild discomfort. I threw the borrowed glasses aside and sent up a silent prayer for the return of my perfect vision, the only thing I truly missed when out of my real form. The lithe limbs of the body I'd taken the form of began to swell, returning me to my normal size. Sleek black fringe retracted into my scalp, my mousy brown hair sprouting up to replace it, falling in layers across my forehead. I didn't have the heart to watch the well-defined muscle disappear, and just contented myself with feeling my comforting layers of fat taking their rightful place over my midsection. With a few more cracks and groans, I was pretty well assured that when I next looked into a mirror I would see exactly what I was used to seeing, a thoroughly average man with average features, hair, and body type, instead of Harry Potter's countenance.

Mr. Malfoy never asks me my name, or whether I am always the one to appear before him. I am, not that it really matters when it comes down to it. He doesn't pay me to be _me_; he pays me to be a replacement Savior, a malleable one that he can have warm his bed if he wishes.

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><p>See, that's what Europa-Companions does. You provide the DNA and we'll provide a non-descript, discreet individual to slake your lusts upon.<p> 


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